Copy, Paste, Write
by Avaday Daydream
Summary: Sometimes I think there's not enough Harry Potter fanfiction in the world, so I write prompts on HPFanfiction to try and inspire people to create new and interesting stories. Sometimes these prompts get a little long... This is a collection of what I've written so far with notes on what I'm hoping for for each one.
1. Dobby acquires ownership of Harry

**Before we begin...(Author's Notes):**

So, hello! This is the first of the prompts-slash-minifics that I've been putting on HPFanfiction, on Reddit.

This story is basically about a concept I'd been sitting on for a while; what if a house-elf, owned a wizard? After reading 0800 Rent-a-Hero by brainthief (which briefly touches on the subject), I went and made a request on HPFanfiction.

It didn't pan out, apparently there's very little fanfic with house-elves owning wizards...so, I decided to write a prompt for one!

In this 'chapter', I try to set up a divergence from canon at the end of Chamber of Secrets, where a mix of magic accidentally bonds Harry to Dobby the 'wrong way around'. I tried to keep it fairly family-friendly, and set up as many elements (why it happened, how to free Harry, Dobby's motive, etc) as possible; unfortunately, I think I rambled on a bit much.

If you like the concept, please _please_ write your own! I'm hungry for fanfic!

* * *

 **It started when...**

Lucius looked down at Dobby, who was gleefully twirling his new sock around, before he turned his baleful gaze upon Harry.

"You've lost me my servant, boy." he stated coldly.

Harry just shrugged, "Like you ever deserved him. Hey, Dobby."

The free elf looked up at Harry, his expression beaming.

"What was it you wanted to say back in Professor Dumbledore's office?"

Dobby smiled wider before taking a deep breath, "It was bad old master Malfoy all along! He made the plan to use the bad book to kill the muggleborns, he put it in Miss Wheezy's cauldron! I was ordered not to tell!"

Harry smirked as Lucius looked gobsmacked, "Well, Mr. Malfoy? It seems your actions have a witness."

Lucius's expression darkened as Dobby skipped to Harry's side, "It seems your parents weren't the only meddlesome fools. Mark my words, Potter...you'll meet a sticky end soon enough."

Harry grinned cheekily at him; turning his back on the fuming blonde, he started to walk back to the headmaster's office-

"Imperio."

-when all of his thoughts seemed to slip away, everything vanishing from the Boy-Who-Lived's mind, to be replaced by a gentle feeling of relaxation and happiness.

 _Go to the window._

Harry turned without thinking about it, walking towards one of the corridor's large windows, gazing out at the grand vista of the lake outside.

 _Jump out of the window._

Harry put one foot up on the windowsill, then hesitated, as though there were a voice in the back of his head saying "This is a bad idea."

 _Jump out of the-_

The foggy feeling in Harry's mind suddenly vanished as he stumbled back and turned around; there, behind him, Lucius was supporting himself on a nearby column, the cane in his hand smashed to splinters, staring with horror at Dobby.

Harry stepped up towards Dobby, who turned and looked at him with furious eyes, "Dobby saw it! Bad old master waved his cane and cast a spell on you! A very bad mind-control curse!"

Behind Dobby, Lucius picked up the largest remaining piece of his cane, before fleeing down the stairwell from the angry house-elf.

 **After that...**

Albus Dumbledore stroked his beard, "I see...unfortunately, without neither the diary nor Mr. Malfoy's wand, we cannot prove his involvement in this years events, or his attempt to kill Harry...nevertheless, thanks to your testimony, I am certain his actions in the future will be much more closely scrutinized."

Dobby briefly looked abashed at the mention of his destroying Lucius Malfoy's wand, before he grinned cheerfully again, "Did Dobby do a good job?"

Albus smiled, "You did very well, Dobby. And you too, Harry...but, before you return to your tower, perhaps I should tell you a little more about the bond that you two now share?"

 **Skip a bit...**

Dobby suddenly looked nervous, "Actually...Dobby would like a very big favor from Harry Potter sir..."

Harry slid off his chair and gently held Dobby's hands, "It's alright Dobby. You really saved my life, I'll do anything for you."

Suddenly, at that moment, a tiny spark of magic ran from Dobby's arm to Harry, and for a brief moment Harry felt as though he was being squeezed and hugged by some invisible force.

Harry let go of Dobby and fell over backwards, "What was that?" he wondered.

Dobby, strangely, looked astonished, "Dobby only wanted to ask if he could keep Harry Potter's sock!"

 **A little while later...**

"Well, good sirs, I believe I have an explanation." the portrait of Quenton Pilliwickle, former Hogwarts Headmaster, said from his spot above the fireplace.

Harry both looked up at the painting, while Fawkes continued to nudge at Dobby, who still looked like he had seen a basilisk's reflection.

"It's quite simple, really," Quenton continued, "You see, it's a combination of three factors. Firstly, when you freed good Dobby over there, Lucius was, shall we say, less than willing; hence, the bond between the two was not properly dissolved, it was merely severed."

"Secondly," Quenton held up two fingers, "when Dobby repaid your generosity by saving you from that villain's vile curse, you, Harry, incurred a life debt to him, as sir Dumbledore has explained." The current headmaster nodded.

"Now!" Quenton held up his entire hand, "This is where things get interesting! For you see, Harry, when you said, and I quote, 'I'll do anything for you', and I know you meant it, you were holding Dobby's hands at the time. And that, my lad, was a textbook vow of homage."

"Of what?" Harry looked confused.

"Of homage! The traditional ritual where a vassal swears allegiance to their lord," the painting of Pilliwickle explained. "Nevermind, 'tis from centuries ago."

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly, "I believe I understand now, sir Pilliwickle. Spells can interact with each other in strange ways, and so too can magical bonds, even those of friendship and loyalty..."

"I do say, you've got the idea, headmaster. And what about you, young chap?" the painting asked, turning to Harry.

Harry thought about it, "Um...you're saying that Dobby's broken bond with Malfoy, my life debt to Dobby, and this vow of homage, all mixed to do...what?"

Quenton smiled...then suddenly looked embarrassed, "That is right, they mixed together to...well, actually, this is a touch awkward, but I believe that the three mixed to make a new bond of servitude. You are...well, it would seem, young Harry, that you're now the magically bonded servant of Dobby the house-elf."

Harry froze up; Fawkes noticed and started cawing loudly, peering around the room, eyes searching for another hidden basilisk.

 **And then after that...**

"I have good news." Albus announced as he re-entered his office, "Mr. Stump from the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures assures me that clothes are not the only way to free a house-elf."

Harry and Dobby looked up from the game of checkers they were playing.

The headmaster settled comfortably back into his seat before continuing, "It seems that, harkening back to old feudal traditions, a house-elf...or other bonded servant," he added, looking at Harry, "can be freed with a gift of a plot of fertile land."

"I wouldn't mind being given Hogwarts, professor." Harry joked.

Dumbledore chuckled quietly, "I'm afraid that's not an option...In any case, I'm not sure magically conjured soil counts, so you may have to wait until tomorrow morning, but then, Harry, you will be free again."

A mumbled sound came from Dobby's direction. Dumbledore tilted his head, "Pardon, Dobby? I didn't quite hear."

Dobby looked up, first at Dumbledore, then at Harry, "Could...could Dobby please keep Harry Potter sir?"

There was a deafening silence for a few seconds, before Harry smiled weakly, "Um...Dobby, I know I said I'd do anything for you, but I wasn't thinking of something like this."

Dobby stared at Harry with an expression like that of a needy puppy. Harry shifted uncomfortably, "Why do you want to keep me, anyway? I thought you'd be leery of any kind of slavery after Malfoy."

Dobby's eyes widened slightly, "But that is just it, Harry Potter sir! Bad old Malfoy was a bad master! If Dobby owns a wizard, Dobby can be good master! And Dobby can prove he is better than that big dumb Malfoy!" the house-elf reddened slightly with that last daring comment.

For his part, the headmaster's eyes twinkled, "One of the better kinds of revenge, I would think."

"Professor!" Harry looked shocked, "You aren't considering leaving me like this, are you?"

The headmaster coughed, spluttering for a moment before regaining his composure, "I assure you, Harry, I have absolutely no intention of allowing you to remain in bondage, if it is against your will."

Harry sighed with relief...before his gaze turned confused, "Wait, why did you specify 'if it's against my will'? Uh, sir?"

Dumbledore looked at him. Then, sighing, the old man leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, "I'm sure you know, Harry, that in a few weeks time, you must return to the Dursleys for another summer...despite their, shall we say, less-than-stellar behavior last time you saw them."

Harry opened his mouth, but Dobby beat him to it, "Master Dobby will protect his Harry from bad relatives," he growled fiercely, "Master Dobby can put fat muggles in a cage like they did to Harry."

Harry fought to stifle laughter as he imagined his uncle Vernon being transfigured into a walrus, before another thought occured to him and he looked subdued, "If you do that, I'll just get in trouble with the Improper Use of Magic Office again."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," Dumbledore said lightly, "I can speak to Miss Hopkirk so that no more of Dobby's...mm, misdeeds, are blamed on you."

 **Some time later**

Ron leaned back in his chair, "That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard, mate...I take that back, it's only the weirdest thing I've heard today. And you're actually considering staying as Dobby's...you know?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm not sure yet. Dobby doesn't have to obey the restriction on underaged sorcery, so I can finally have magic at the Dursleys. And it means they won't be able to put bars on my window again."

Ron's face twitched as he tried to frown and smirk at the same time, "Yeah, but imagine what'll happen if you fall behind on homework." The redhead pitched his voice and tried to do his impression of a house-elf, "If bad Harry doesn't do his schoolwork, bad Harry will be flogged with a haddock thiiis big!"

Harry snickered. Ron gave him a goofy grin, before frowning, as though expecting some other reaction; a second later, he turned towards the third couch, "No comment, 'Mione?"

Hermione looked up at Ron and Harry before shaking her head, "No, I'm just...sorry, this is hard to take in. I mean, you two actually _fought_ and killed the basilisk, you were right and Lockhart was _worse_ than a fraud..."

Ron tried not to look too smug.

"And Lucius Malfoy actually tried to kill you, Harry!" Hermione continued, "And now you've been turned into some kind of magical slave, it's just..." she trailed off.

"It's not that bad, honestly." Harry tried to assure her, "I mean, Dumbledore and Dobby promised I can be free any time I want. And, it means I get to have _some_ magic over the summer."

"Sounds like you've made up your mind, mate." Ron commented. "I wouldn't go for it if it were me. I don't want to imagine what Fred and George would do if they found out I had to obey a house-elf's every word..."

Harry's face went white at that particular thought, and he silently resolved to never let a meeting between Dobby and the prankster twins come to pass.

 **And then after that**

"Ah, Harry. Have you made your decision on whether or not to dissolve your bond with Dobby?"

Professor Dumbledore's expression looked serious, but his eyes betrayed a concealed sense of amusement.

Harry nodded, "As a matter of fact, I have, sir." Then he turned to the nervous elf standing next to him and knelt down to look him in the eye.

"Dobby," Harry started uncertainly; Dobby squeaked before looking back at him apprehensively.

"Well, I suppose I should call you Master now," Harry continued. He swallowed some nervousness, before he went on, "I, um...well, ever since we first met, you've been trying to keep me safe, even if, um, you didn't pick the best ways to do it."

Dobby held his breath as Harry's voice grew a little stronger, "And you did definitely save my life yesterday, that's a fact. So, um, to reward your selflessness, I..." Harry took a deep breath, "I would like to ask if I could be your humble servant, Master Dobby."

For a few seconds, Dobby was silent, his eyes bugging out, and Harry wondered if he had said something wrong by mistake.

Then, Dobby squealed with delight, "Yes! Yes! Dobby accepts!"

"Well said, lad," the portrait of Quenton Pilliwickle commented as the house-elf went into a happy dance, "I think you might have accidentally proposed to him just now, but well said."

Harry blushed and Dumbledore simply looked amused as Dobby bounced around the room, "Dobby is so happy, Dobby is free and he has his own wizard and he's going to be the best master ever..."

The headmaster coughed politely, causing the room to quiet, "Well, as joyous an occasion as this is, I do have one more matter of importance to bring up."

He reached under his desk, and literally brought up a large potted plant; a magnificent capsicum plant sporting bell peppers in every color of the rainbow.

"Your fertile land, Dobby." Dumbledore explained. "If ever Harry wishes to be freed, you can present this to him to make it so."

Harry just raised his eyebrows at the plant's flamboyant colors, while Dobby beamed, "Master Dobby appreciates this very much, Headmaster Dumbledore sir!"

Dobby then turned to Harry, "Could Harry Potter please be-oh no!" he cut himself off, eyes wide with horror.

"I assure you that Harry can handle your new land and care for it without accidentally breaking the bond between you." the headmaster helpfully supplied.

"Just as well, it'd be embarrassing to have to ask to be enslaved again." Harry quipped.

Dobby shut his eyes and took several deep breaths before looking at Harry again, "Could Harry Potter please be carrying Master Dobby's new pot plant?"

Harry smiled, "Of course, Dobby." But before he could move towards the potted capsicum, a knock came at the headmaster's door.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, "Come in, miss Granger."

After a moment, the door was pushed open a slight bit, and Hermione Granger came edging through, "Um, hello Professor...could I ask Dobby something?"

"Miss Her-Money can ask anything she likes!" Dobby chirped.

Hermione twitched at the innocuous mangling of her name, "Um, Dobby, could you promise me something?"

"Anything!"

"Would you _please_ make sure that Harry does all his homework over the summer?"

Harry just shook his head resignedly as the various portraits around the office collapsed into silent and not-so-silent laughter.


	2. The Weasleys & Dumbledore are thieves?

**Welcome back!**

This one is basically a rant disguised as a micro-fic. Sometimes I get tired of plots where the Weasleys or Dumbledore are stealing money from Harry's vaults, so I wrote this one on the fly to express my frustration with the cliche.

There's not much future for this bunny, but posting it on HPFanfiction got a few people talking about how they want to see a paranoid Harry who thinks that the Weasleys/Dumbledore are robbing him when they really aren't, just to subvert things.

I also proposed in the thread the idea of a crack fic with literally _everyone_ robbing Harry's vaults, from the Weasleys to Neville to the goblins to Mr. Granger to even Voldemort himself and the Queen of England. Let your imagination run away with that one, I guess.

* * *

"Mrs Weasley, I've just found that I haven't been receiving financial statements from Gringotts for the past 10 years when I should have been, and you and Professor Dumbledore have periodically been making withdrawals..."

Mrs Weasley blinked and looked at the balance sheet presented to her, "Didn't anyone ever tell you, Harry?"

"Tell me what?"

"Well...you know how in the first war against...You-Know-Who, your parents were in the Order of the Phoenix. My brothers were as well. I stayed out of things with Arthur, but we still talked to Lily and James, and, well..."

Molly sighed, "It was dangerous in those times, members of the Order were dying left and right...your mother was worried that she and James might not come back one day, so, we made a promise; if they were killed in action, we'd take care of you..."

Harry glanced at the sheet again before looking up at Mrs. Weasley, "But I've been raised by the Dursleys..."

"Yes, but you end up staying with us a lot, dear. In any case, your parents gave the okay for us to withdraw money from your vault for you, and we've had financial agency ever since."

Mrs Weasley blushed, "Although I do have to make a confession...we have borrowed a few galleons from time to time when we ran out...we did pay it back, it doesn't _really_ cost 700 galleons to go on holiday to Egypt, you know..."

Later on...

"Professor Dumbledore, these withdrawals from my vault in your name..."

"Pre-arranged monthly fees for tuition, and limited right to withdrawal for the purpose of meeting extraordinary expenses, like your medical bills. Yes, I took some so that McGonagall could give you a Nimbus 2000, yes, I took some to pay for the considerable amounts of chocolate you consumed during third year. No, I can't pay for it out of school funds, the notoriously philanthropic Lucius Malfoy is stingy when it comes to Hogwarts, no, Severus can't brew all the medical potions required, he doesn't have enough time to do so and we'd need to buy most of the ingredients anyway."

Professor Dumbledore sighed, "I'm sorry, Harry, I haven't had a lemon drop for the past three hours and it's made me a mite cranky."


	3. Why Lee Jordan announces for Quidditch

**Hello again!**

This one's even shorter and sillier than the last; just a little tidbit about the possibility of why Lee Jordan is doing the commentating for Quidditch.

It's not very useful as a plot point or the basis of a story, but I suppose you could stick it in somewhere as a one-off gag. Perhaps engineer things so that Snape is the commentator so he gives points to Gryffindor.

* * *

The quaffle flew through the goal hoop.

"10 points to Hufflepuff!"

"Slytherin gets 10 points!"

"Another goal, another 10 points to Hufflepuff..."

"Diggory catches the snitch! 150 points to Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff wins 290 to 110!"

 **Later, after the match...**

The students entered the Great Hall, chattering away about Quidditch, when one of them pointed, "What the heck?"

The Slytherin hourglass full of emeralds was considerably fuller than it was before. The Hufflepuff hourglass was full nearly to bursting with topazes. The other two hourglasses for Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were unchanged.

One of the Hufflepuffs scratched his head, "How did we get so many points? I know it wasn't like that before the...Quidditch...match..."

Everyone present thought back to what _exactly_ the professor commentating the match was saying.

"...Whoops?"


	4. A horcrux-possessing dark lord dinosaur

Things can change a lot over millions of years. Civilizations can degrade to nothing, stone can weather away, plants can turn to fossil fuels...do you suppose that if there were a dinosaur civilization a long time ago, we'd be able to find proof of it?

This idea basically came about while thinking about that; I suggested the concept that there were civilized dinosaurs millions of years ago, and that they had their own magic, and that one of them developed Horcruxes and used them to live long enough to take over the world.

Said Horcruxes allowed the tyrannical lizard to survive in spirit form long after he was flattened by a certain asteroid and his empire was destroyed, to the point that he's still around in the present day.

Then mistermisstep said I should write a bit on it, so I did. And here it is.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a very wicked dinosaur. It was a very long time ago, so nobody now knows his name. Or even that he existed.

This evil dinosaur was very adept in the ways of magic (magic existed before humans, you know), and used his mystical powers to conquer an empire for himself, taking everyone whom submitted to him as slaves and all who opposed him as food.

To assure his eternal reign, he discovered a way to split his corrupt soul; taking bloody trophies from conquered heroes, the wicked wizard lizard placed parts of his soul inside each skull, thus ensuring he could never truly die.

And so, immune to death of any kind, the (lol) tyrant lizard expanded his empire, slowly but surely conquering the globe and ruling it for thousands of years.

Why isn't he around today? Well, you see, on one of his expeditions to conquer a rebellious province, the tyrant decided he wanted to show off, by calling a great asteroid to squash the city ruled by the rebels in a single blow.

Unfortunately, as you might have guessed, he selected too big of an asteroid...and despite being very well versed in magic of the darkest kind, he wasn't so adept at physics, and didn't understand the importance of velocity, just mass.

We call what happened the Cretaceous Extinction Event.

Though utterly disintegrated by the force of the blast, the tyrant wizard lizard did not die. Why would he, his what-we-now-call-Horcruxes were back in his capital city on the other side of the globe.

His spirit remained on earth, though with his body utterly destroyed and his empire destroyed by the aftermath of the asteroid impact (along with everything else!), he could do nothing but wait for millions of years, waiting for intelligent life to return to earth, waiting for someone or something he could use to restore his true form.

The dinosaur watched as humans descended from the trees and taught themselves to use fire.

He watched as the Ancient Egyptians learned the principles of magic and used them to guard their homes and tombs.

He watched as Herpo the Foul followed in his footsteps, creating a horcrux of his own, though the human dark wizard barely lasted a century.

He watched as humans exchanged their togas and loincloths for shirts and breeches.

He watched as magical beings of all shapes and kinds came together to hide from non-magical humans.

He watched as Lord Voldemort was blasted from his body, becoming an incorporeal spirit like himself.

He noted with interest the events at Hogwarts.

He watched Voldemort come back to corporeal life using the flesh, blood and bone of his father, servant and foe.

And, the millions-of-years-old dinosaur wizard planned.


	5. Why you SHOULD say Voldemort!

So. This is the silliest one yet, mainly because there's little respect for the fourth wall.

The basic idea was for a story where the Taboo on Voldemort's name is powered by his own magic, meaning that if too many people say it at once, his magic will be drained. Hence, a challenge in trying to get as many people to say 'Voldemort' as possible.

I actually intended to do a second part, one where the trio find conflicting information that suggests that Voldemort might get _more_ powerful every time his name is spoken, but I never got around to it.

* * *

Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room, clutching a book, looking simultaneously horrified and excited.

"Ron, Hermione, I figured it out," he loudly whispered to his friends, "I figured out why Voldemort doesn't want people saying his name!"

The other two leaned forward, and Harry held out the book that he had in his hands; Ron took it before Hermione and flipped it open to the bookmark.

"Amongst Dark Lord Emeric's most vile deeds was the cursing of his own name...blah blah blah...whenever his name was spoken it would function as a spell, cursing the speaking and binding them to Emeric's will..." Ron looked up, "Yikes, mate, if Voldemort did that, wouldn't he want as many people as possible saying his name?"

"Keep reading!" Harry pressed.

So Ron stuck his nose back into the book, "Blah blah blah...however, this terrible deed ended up being the catalyst to his own downfall, as every time his name was spoken, the curse he placed upon it drew upon his own magic to function; thus, when thousands of people whispered his name every day, the magical flow was too great and Emeric ended up being drained of life by his own invention."

Harry grinned, "That's why! Voldemort cursed his name so that it'd put a curse on whoever said it, but to save on magic, he put a regular Taboo on it (disregarding that I don't know what that is yet) so that only the people who aren't afraid of him and his followers will say it!"

Ron tilted his head and stared ahead in wonder, "But then if everyone said his name a few times, he'd become a squib...?"

"Right!"

* * *

"Wait!" Hermione interrupted, "This is a fascinating concept for a fanfic and all, but haven't you forgotten something?"

Harry and Ron looked at her and shrugged.

"For starters, Hagrid told you Voldemort's name back before your first year, Harry, and you weren't cursed on the spot then. The wards on Hogwarts can explain not being cursed while saying it here, or at your relatives' house, but in Diagon Alley, it's not canon-compatible!"

Ron shrugged again, "Well, maybe it's not a straight up curse, maybe it's more like scrying. You know, 'speak of the devil and he shall appear', 'cept that it lets him listen in on you and decide if he wants to teleport...I mean, Apparate, in for a sneak attack."

Harry continued the shrugging phenomenon, "Sounds good to me. The only problem is taking advantage of it; I don't see how you could get a whole bunch of people together in a field and chant 'Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort', not without being a master diplomat. That'd be a ridiculously cracky fic."


	6. Centaurs can't hold their liquor

A while before this one, I posted a request for a centaur-raised Harry that didn't have smut, super!Harry, or spartan-way stuff. I didn't get anything, unfortunately, although I did end up coming up with a silly promo for Harry Potter, chartered accountant.

So, this is basically a plot I came up with, not centaur-raised Harry, but a concept for a centaur-centric plot that doesn't have centaurs as being mystical snobs. And also playing with the real-life myth of centaurs not being able to handle alcohol.

* * *

 **Before**

 _ **Centaurs to be Recognized as Beings!**_

 _Representative: "Our faith in humanity is restored," following magical creature reforms_

* * *

 **During**

"And so, as acting Minister for Magic, it is my pleasure to give my assent to this bill..."

Kingsley raised a quill and scribbed out his approval on the parchment resting on the lecturn in front of him, while an audience of hundreds watched with baited breath.

"...Formally admitting centaur-kind as not just beings, but equal in every way to human witches and wizards!"

Raising his voice to be heard over the start of the cheering, "With this, we continue down a path that atones for the shames of our past, progressing towards a world where who you are means more than what you are."

The cheers grew louder; pointy hats were flung into the air, sparks were shot from wands and flowers were tossed every which way.

...

But then there was a sound. A terrible, terrible sound, that filled the hearts of every centaur (and many humans in-the-know) present with horror.

~pop!~

The sound of a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky being cracked open.

Besides Kingsley, the centaur Havigan leapt forward, arm outstretched, futily reaching to stop the inevitable.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO..."

 _ **NEWSFLASH!**_

 _ **Centauromachy!**_

 _Bill signing turns to chaos as alcohol fumes overwhelm centaurs!_

 _Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic: "I gave express directions for no alcohol to be served at the signing reception. The person responsible for bringing Firewhisky in is currently under investigation..."_

 _..._

 _Dion, affected centaur: "I remember exactly what I did while I was under the influence. I owe multiple apologies to Mrs. Malfoy for my unwelcome advances, and to the MLEP officers who were trying to apprehend me at the time..."_

 _..._

 _Hermione Granger, Department Head: "Everyone knows it, even muggle legends have it; centaurs cannot handle wine, the smell alone can easily intoxicate them."_

* * *

 **After**

"I'm afraid it's simply not possible to destroy all alcohol in Britain, sir Pelagius." Justin Pilliwickle of the newly reformed Centaur Liaison Office said to the dejected centaur in front of him, "Leaving aside the economic value of Butterbeer sales alone and the gains from tariffs on imported liquors, we would have to find some way to prohibit alcohol use by the muggles as well. And, well, the 1920's in America can tell us how well that will go."

The centaur, Pelagius, looked up, "American wizards tried to ban alcohol in the 1920s?"

Justin shook his head, "No, the muggle government did. For moral reasons, I understand. It backfired catastrophically, millions of...'dollars', were lost in tax revenue and a huge black market sprung up which paved the way for modern crime syndicates today."

The centaur looked down again, "Still, there must be some solution...maybe-"

He was interrupted as an aide quietly eased into the room and dropped a sheath of papers on Justin's desk, "Update on the Wolfsbane Potion production, Mr. Pilliwickle." the aide muttered quietly as he left again.

There was silence in the room. Pelagius's eyebrows twitched thoughtfully.

"Are you having an idea, Pelagius?" Justin asked hopefully.

The centaur shook his head, "No, I was just thinking...that Firewhisky antidote you used earlier...perhaps it could be modified?"


	7. Dobby's smart, goblins are law-abiding

Two for one this time! Because both of them are short.

As a matter of fact, Bendersalt used the first one here as a springboard for 'Don't Be A Dobby Downer', you can find it here on ! So yay!

The other fic is just making fun of how goblins in Harry Potter fanfiction don't seem to care about criminals doing business with them in the slightest.

* * *

 **If Dobby worked smarter, not harder...**

11-going-on-12-year-old Harry Potter shut the door to his room and collapsed on the bed.

Then he got up again. There was something that felt like a magazine underneath his head.

Harry picked it up. It wasn't a magazine at all, it was a brochure...a magical brochure, given the moving picture on the front.

"Beauxbatons Academy of Magic wants you?" he quietly read aloud.

Harry started to flip through the brochure.

Beautiful castle, check.

Top quality magical education, check.

Friendly staff and students, check...oh my, make that very friendly students.

And at the end of the brochure, someone had scribbled, in childish block letters, 'ABSOLUTELY NO DARK LORDS, EVIL PLOTS, OR MALFOYS'.

Hidden in the garden, below Harry's window, a house-elf crossed his fingers and hoped.

"Please work, please work, please work..."

* * *

 **Goblins don't care about such petty things as wizarding laws or fugitives...**

Recently-escaped-Sirius-Black, along with wrongly-imprisoned-and-escaped-Harry-Potter, slipped through the front doors of Gringotts before going up to a goblin teller, who raised an eyebrow at their comically large disguise moustaches.

"I would like to speak to my account manager, if it is pleasing." Sirius requested in a vague, obviously-fake Russian accent.

The teller nodded and pulled out an index book, "Your name, please?"

Sirius looked around, making sure the other customers weren't paying attention to him, before he leaned forward and peeled away his moustache.

"Sirius Black." he whispered, before sticking his moustache back on and pretending nothing was out of the ordinary.

The teller raised his other eyebrow, before pushing a button on his desk and whispering Gobbledegook into a microphone.

Then he looked up and nodded, "Nodrick can see you now."

Later, as they were leaving, toting thick almost-bottomless-bags filled to the brim with gold, Harry leaned over and whispered to Sirius, "Is this really alright? I mean, don't they care that we're wanted men?"

"Nah, don't worry." Sirius whispered back, "Goblins don't care if you're a fugitive, they've never given a damn about wizarding law."

Then they turned the corner, and Sirius gaped for a moment before continuing, "Or I could be wrong."

In front of them, the atrium was filled to the brim with people; Aurors, Hit Wizards, goblins, bounty hunters, centaurs, transformed Animagi, house-elves...all armed to the teeth with wands, swords, spears, bows, claws, kitchen knives...

And all of them had their weapons pointed at Harry and Sirius.

"In our defense, there's a very large bounty on both of your heads," Nodrick commented from behind them, "Also, we're total psychopaths, don't you remember back in book 1, how Griphook implied we let thieves get trapped in vaults and starve? Although given he backstabs you in book 7, you could make an argument that he's just a bad actor..."


	8. Trying to re-enslave Dobby is a bad idea

Remember how I wrote a thing to justify Dobby owning Harry Potter instead of the other way around?

This is another one of those, except with Dobby owning, of all people, Umbridge.

Actually, to be honest, the notion of enslaving someone and hexing them to prevent them talking about it kind of offends my moral sensibilities. Not nearly as much as Unbreakable Vows do, but still...eh, I dunno.

Don't forget, if you like these bunnies, write your own stories using them! This is titled 'Copy, Paste, Write' for a reason, you know!...Not just because I'm copy/pasting from my posts on HPFanfiction.

* * *

 **i.**

It was a few days after Dolores Umbridge had caught Dumbledore's Army in the act and forced the elderly Headmaster from the castle, installing herself in his place.

In the Gryffindor common room, squeezed in on a couch next to Ron and Hermione, Harry's focus on his homework was suddenly interrupted as he heard a pop, followed by a quiet sobbing sound.

When Harry put down his book to look at the source of the noise, he saw a very distressed Dobby.

"Dobby? What happened?" Harry started to growl as a suspicion came to him, "Did Umbridge do something to you?"

The house-elf just quivered, "Dobby isn't allowed to tell...Dobby isn't allowed to tell students..."

"...So, you came to find a teacher, whom Dobby was allowed to tell. Good thinking, Mr. Potter." Professor McGonagall commented, before she sighed and removed her glasses to clean them.

"Unfortunately, it's as bad as you may have guessed..." McGonagall said when she could see again, "As you know, Dobby was being paid by Professor Dumbledore to work. When Albus fled the castle, Dobby went to the new Headmistress, Umbridge, to ask her to pay his salary..."

The professor sighed, "However, rather than continue to pay Dobby, or let him seek employment elsewhere, Umbridge instead chose to use Coacto Servus, the forced bondage charm."

Hermione, who was present next to Harry, gasped, "But Professor, that's highly illegal! Forcibly enslaving someone with magic was prohibited in Britain in 1839, with the legislation updated in 1976!"

McGonagall smiled slightly, then frowned again, "Correct. I'll go speak to Professor Umbridge. The law is quite clear, hopefully she'll see reason and release Dobby."

* * *

 **ii.**

"Alternatively, she could claim her position makes her exempt from certain laws, and threaten charges against me if I protested." Professor McGonagall amended.

Harry just blinked, mentally trying to calculate if this was yet another new low for Umbridge, or par for the course.

"She also had Dobby flogged, and his tongue cut out, for 'disloyalty'." the Transfiguration Professor continued, "As well as three other elves who voiced their protests to his punishment."

Harry stared at the transfiguration professor in disbelief, before turning and tearing out the door towards the Hospital Wing.

"No running in the corridors...oh, forget it." McGonagall grumbled as she waved for Ron and Hermione to follow him out.

Harry burst through the doors to the Hospital Wing, "Dobby, are you alright?!" he shouted.

The mediwitch glared at him from the bed she was working at, "Mr. Potter, please calm down! I still have to re-attach this poor house-elf's tongue!"

Harry blushed and sat down in a nearby chair to wait quietly. A few minutes later, when Ron and Hermione had caught up, Pomphery backed away from the bed and wiped her brow, "Alright, you can talk now."

The trio rushed over to look; lying on top of the bedsheets, Dobby was staring straight up in the air, draped in only a teatowel loincloth, defiantly clutching a wooly hat that was all that remained of his previous clothing to his chest.

"Um...Dobby?" Ron tried tentatively, "Are you alright...sorry, that's kind of a silly question, isn't it?"

Dobby turned his head to look at Ron, then at Harry, before he resumed staring back up at the Hospital Wing's ceiling, "Dobby is not alright. Dobby isn't free."

The elf's eyes flickered briefly at Hermione as well, "Dobby wants revenge on the pink toad. Doing onto her as she's done onto Dobby."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then stopped as an idea blossomed in her mind, "That's...I have an idea...it's horribly illegal and we'll be expelled for sure if we get caught, but..."

"Would you share your idea, Miss Hermy Granger?" a squeaky voice came from behind them.

Hermione and the other two turned around, Dobby raising his head to look; there, gathered on a bed behind them, was a trio of three more house-elves, glints of mischief visible in their eyes.

* * *

 **iii.**

A few days later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting together at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, watching the staff table, waiting for something to happen.

And happen it did. Almost a minute exactly after Dolores Umbridge had first taken a bite of her steak diane, she began to wobble precariously to one side.

"Dolores, are you alright?" Professor McGonagall asked the witch next to her, loud enough so the entire hall could hear her, "You look tired, you should go back to your quarters and take a rest."

"Yes...yes, I'll do that..." the pink-cardigan-wearing witch mumbled, unsteadily standing up from her seat and slowly stumbling towards the Great Hall's doors.

"The Hypnotic Suggestion Potion looks like it's been successfully delivered." Harry quietly informed Ron and Hermione with a smirk.

Standing up, he gave an exaggerated yawn, "Oh, my. I am also feeling strange. I might go for a walk, to clear my head, who's with me?"

Ron and Hermione shared a grin as they stood up, shortly followed by a handful of other Gryffindors; as they left the Hall en-masse, Harry could swear he saw Professor McGonagall wink at him.

Shed of excess Gryffindors, the party of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dobby (plus three more) gathered at the door to Umbridge's office.

"Go." Harry whispered. Dobby nodded and wrapped a blue blanket around himself like a robe before slipping into the office, while the other three listened at the door.

"Miss Umbridge, miss...oh dear." Dobby's voice sounded, as rehearsed.

"Who is it?" Umbridge's groggy voice responded.

"I is being Professor Flitwick, ma'am. I be coming to ask you if you needed any help with anything. Let me take your cardigan for you?"

"That's some potion." Ron whispered in awe to Hermione, who shushed him as Umbridge's voice sounded, "Oh, much appreciated Filius..."

"You're welcome, Dolores, I shan't bother you again tonight..."

A few seconds later, Dobby exited out the door and pumped his fist in victory, clutching the cardigan that served as his ticket to freedom.

"Your turn, Harry." Hermione whispered, and Harry nodded before putting on a bald wig and slipping into the room with a piece of parchment in his hand.

"Miss Umbridge? Professor?" Harry wheedled in his best nasally voice, "It's old Filch, I hate to bother you now but the twins are acting up, I just need a form..."

"The Approval for Whipping is over there, Argus, already signed," a sleepy Umbridge mumbled from her pillow.

Harry turned and stared, revolted, at the incriminating form on the pink toad's desk, before he turned back to the bed, "Ah, no, this is another one, Approval for...Branding. Could you quickly sign it, just now?"

Umbridge grumbled, but raised her head and slid out of bed, glancing only briefly at Harry with her potion-glazed eyes before taking the parchment in his hand and signing it with a wobbly flick of her quill.

"And, er, this one too, to requisition some new shackles..." Harry noted with distaste how quickly she signed that one, "And one for cages...uh, pokers...cactus..."

" _Cactus?_ " Ron breathed.

"It's the first thing that came to mind!" Harry defended.

Ron shrugged, before he slipped on a formal-looking blazer, "Well, it's my turn, wish me luck."

The rest of the group nodded as Ron used a spell to style his messy hair before stepping into Umbridge's chambers.

"Excuse me, miss Umbridge? Undersecretary? It's me, Percy Weasley...I hate to disturb you now, but there's a few m-I mean, just a couple of forms that need to be signed before the deadline..."

"Alright, she's definitely asleep now." Ron whispered to the party as he stepped back out the door, "Have we got everything done?"

Hermione flipped through the rolls of parchment she was holding, "Dobby freed, contract signed to not harm anyone at Hogwarts, contract requiring disclosure of anything on demand, sworn servitude to Dobby the elf..."

She quickly glanced at the proud-looking Dobby, "You're evil, by the way," before she continued, "...pending release at Dobby's discretion, waived right to own property, waived right to free speech, waived right to travel..."

Hermione continued down the list, starting to look queasy as she did, before she folded them up, "I can't believe I came up with these, what was I thinking?! But yes, in a nutshell, Umbridge is now Dobby's slave instead of vice-versa and she's not allowed to tell anyone about it."

Harry smiled evilly, before giving the nod to the other three house-elves in the group, who took it as a sign to slip into Dolores Umbridge's office and start removing things.

* * *

 **iv.**

The day after, in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione shook her head, "I'm a horrible person. We're going to get caught, I know it."

Harry opened his mouth to reassure her, then twisted around as a pop heralded the arrival of Dobby, who (this time) was smiling widely, "Would Harry and friends like to hear about Dobby's first day as owner of Umbridge?"

Everyone in the common room leaned in to listen. Dobby grinned mischievously, "Well, to start, Dobby wanted to give Umbridge work when she woke up, so Dobby let off a few Dungbombs...maaaybe a few dozen in her room."

"And then, after Miss Umbridge refused to clean up the mess, her face went like this-" Dobby made a scrunched-up, bug-eyed face, "-and she jumped this high into the air!"

Hermione blushed bright red and hid her face in her hands, causing everyone to look at her, "I put a Slapping Jinx in one of her contracts to punish misbehavior," she mumbled, "I put it in a mean place."

"...And when she went to the Floo and tried to tell Minister Fudgey," (here Ron snorted), "I heard lots and lots of very bad words, and then her bottom went bright red again..."

Everyone looked at Hermione again, some amazed, some worried and disturbed. "I may have added a jinx like the one on the DA contract if she tried to tell anyone without permission," she admitted, "Except, well, this one has the effect of coprolalia..."

"What does coprolalia mean?" Harry stage whispered to one of the twins.

"It means you swear and insult people. A lot." Fred stage whispered back, "We tried to develop a line of Potty-Mouth Pasties once, but they weren't that popular."

"And then Professor Flitwick walked in, and he asked why Umbridge's room was bare and where Miss Umbridge's clothes were, and she said..."

Here, Dobby blushed a bit, "Dobby shouldn't repeat it, it was very naughty. But Dobby told Professor Flitwick that Umbridge always secretly wanted to be a house-elf, and just didn't like being disturbed, and she put me in charge of doing Hogwarts things."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Flitwick didn't believe that, did he?"

Dobby's jaw wiggled, "Yes he did!" he said cheerfully, "And, he told me afterwards how to get into Professor Dumblydore's office! So now Dobby is Headmaster!"

Hermione blinked, "But it doesn't work that way, Dobby. In the event the current Headmaster or Headmistress is indisposed, the Deputy Head takes on their position until a new Head is elected by the Board of Governors..."

But Dobby just blinked and shrugged, "But who is going to be telling the Board?"


	9. The true hidden origin of Voldemort

This one's basically one long diary entry by Tom Riddle. I'd recently read a fic (I forgot which one it was, something about Harry's kid being kidnapped and muggles breaking into Hogwarts), and I got wondering about how wizards would speak in their defense against muggle invasion.

That ended up turning into this, where a Good Tom Riddle writes about how he lived in a world where one of these muggle wars happened and everyone in the magical world was exterminated. Basically turning a dark fic darker and having a sympathetic wizard viewpoint during it.

Also, this poses an idea to make Horcruxes even eviller; not just soul splitting through an act of murder for the sake of immortality, but soul consumption to create anchors for a demonic entity. I never thought that _just_ ritual murder and _just_ splitting of a soul made for the most vile magical act possible.

* * *

 _I don't know how to begin this...well, maybe like this; everything went wrong._

 _I know that doesn't narrow things down much, so to clarify; repealing the Statute of Secrecy was a mistake._

 _Except we never got that far, did we? We got as far as a couple of reforms, Dumbledore and I, before they tore it all down._

 _I...remember, at the start, I sympathized with their goals. I didn't like purebloods either, so I tried to talk with them, to push them towards peace._

* * *

 _Oh, right, you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Well, it all started when...wait, no._

 _...Look, ever since I can remember there's been a rift between muggleborns and purebloods. It's there because pureblood wizards generally aren't nice people._

 _I could've listed their faults in my sleep. It's mostly racial superiority. Goblins, elves, giants...and muggleborns, they discriminate against them all._

 _When I graduated from Hogwarts, I ended up making it my goal to reform wizarding society, get them to treat other races as equals. And maybe clean up a bit of the corruption in the Ministry._

* * *

 _Except it didn't work out that way, did it? While I was trying to enlighten the wizarding world, dozens of muggleborns had gone back to the Muggle world._

 _They formed into gangs (or perhaps the better phrase would be 'terrorist cells'), they plotted, and they told the Prime Minister their version of events._

 _Of course, he believed them. Why wouldn't he? The purebloods never told him anything._

 _So, he fell for the muggleborns' stories, the ones where purebloods were irredeemable ku-klux-klanners who were behind so many murders and kidnappings and whatnot._

 _Oh, yes, I almost forgot; they were doing it in other countries too. America, Africa, China, they were poisoning the well against us._

* * *

 _I don't know what happened in other countries, but in Britain, they started with a three-pronged strike. Diagon Alley, the Ministry of Magic, and Hogwarts._

 _I was in the Ministry of Magic at the time of the attack. I was able to hide, and escape, I don't know if anyone else made it._

 _I can tell you, while I was there, though, it was a massacre. They murdered everyone who was there, no matter if they were fighting, running away, or trying to rescue others._

 _Did I mention this was done by Muggles? They had enchanted guns, from the muggleborns. From what I learned afterwards, they considered everyone there an enemy hostile just because they had wands, and the ones running away were 'resisting'._

* * *

 _They did worse in Hogwarts. They broke into the Great Hall during dinner. They shot every student who raised a wand, shot every one who tried to run away, shot everyone who tried to say something._

 _And they made their announcement, something about how purebloods wouldn't be allowed to kidnap and murder any longer, and that the magicals of Britain would submit to the Muggle government._

 _Then they marched everyone there into detention centers, which, by the way, I heard were hellholes. Did I mention that they killed anyone who spoke up against their hypocrisy?_

 _...I don't know what happened to Dumbledore, by the way. Sometimes I hope that he escaped. But I never saw him again._

* * *

 _So long as I'm on the subject of hypocrisy, let me tell you what else they did._

 _The elves that the muggles claimed we were bad for enslaving? They slaughtered them for the crime of trying to defend their homes, and magical children._

 _The goblins? When the muggles broke into Gringotts to seize pureblood fortunes, they claimed the goblins were 'resisting' and exterminated all of them, too._

 _That was a trend in general; the muggles would go somewhere, to some place where magical creatures lived, and shoot them when they protested the intrusion on their home._

 _They even killed other muggleborns, too. Ones who wouldn't join in the slaughter, who were hiding innocents or who called for peace or who just didn't want to get involved._

* * *

 _What was I doing? Despite everything, I still wanted peace. So I did some research. I found out how to hack into television signals with magic, and I broadcast a personal message denouncing the bloodshed and calling for peace._

 _Fat load of good that did. They put some soldiers on TV right afterwards to testify about how magicals were oh-so-bad and deserved to be slaughtered en masse._

 _At that point, I was close to giving up. I didn't care that much about the purebloods anymore, but I was still hoping that the humans could be redeemed._

 _What I did was, after Gringotts was sacked, I snuck down there. I took one of the bigger vaults and turned it into a personal biosphere, a lifetime's food and water for me. And wards adjusted for the muggle weapons._

 _And then, well, I broadcast. Whenever I could, I called for an end to the genocide, called out the difference between propaganda and fact, everything. I broke into the internet, onto the TV, the radio, anything I could._

* * *

 _And then, at some point...I guess I gave up. Consider this all my warning to you, peace and love and the power of pure good solves nothing._

 _You can be the kindest, most righteous person in the world, it doesn't matter if some homicidal bastard decides they don't like you._

* * *

 _...Want to know what I did after I gave up? I changed. I started experimenting. Designing every doomsday weapon in the book. Everything to make the muggles pay for their cruelty._

 _Incurable plagues? I did that. Zombie apocalypse? They're called Inferi, but yeah, I managed to make them infectious too. Volcanos, earthquakes, floods, hurricanes? I learned how to make all of them happen._

 _...And yet, none of it would bring back the magical world...so...It took years, but I succeeded in reinventing time travel. In a form that worked for me._

 _And...well, you must have guessed the rest by now, right? The destruction of the magical world hasn't happened yet. I'm still in a muggle orphanage. They don't know who I really am._

* * *

 _I've got a plan, this time. I can't wipe out the muggles without well-meaning wizards or something else coming to stop me. There's no way around that._

 _But I know a way to make something that can't be stopped. Something immortal, that comes back again and again, that can never be truly destroyed. Technically, it can only be banished._

 _Do you know anything about demonology?...I know. Demons can usually only exist in our world as long as their summoner lives, or until they're dismissed._

 _But, if they are given the soul of their summoner, their anchor to the world, they can put it into a physical object, something that can be warded and made nigh-impervious to destruction, and that ensures that they stay in the mortal realm until that anchor is lost._

* * *

 _If you haven't realised by now, I'm describing making a horcrux. They aren't the evilest-of-evil just because they involve a murder and some soul-splitting, you know. That's a myth._

 _They're the darkest of all magic, because you sacrifice everything, you, your soul, your afterlife, everything, to bring about an agent of destruction for the sole purpose of causing suffering._

 _I'll admit it. I used to think making a horcrux was insane. Who would be so utterly consumed by hatred, revenge, and self-loathing, that they'd destroy themselves utterly for it? Nobody._

 _But then, I went through...well, everything. The future. Any kindness, any mercy, for me, would ultimately be futile. All I have left is pre-emptive revenge._

* * *

 _...I'll let you in on one more thing, though...that soul-splitting thing? It's not usually part of making a horcrux, but it is possible._

 _In fact, I'm going to use it. One horcrux can be destroyed to banish the demon back to hell, but how about seven? It's a magical number to bring good fortune, if you somehow don't know._

 _When I summon the demon and perform the Horcrux ritual, I'm going to break my soul into 7 parts, which I'll give to the demon._

 _That way, it can make multiple anchors with my soul. I'll advise it to hang on to one so he's not banished if all of his other anchors are somehow destroyed at once._

* * *

 _It's done, the demon's waiting for me to finish the ritual._

 _To protect its true identity from divination, I'm going to let it use my face, and an anagram of my name. 'Tom Marvolo Riddle', to 'I Am Lord Voldemort'._

 _...Dumbledore, if you read this...I'm sorry. For what, I don't know._

 _-Tom_


	10. Boggart-busting and gun-wielding Sues

Not much to build off here; one of these (the 2nd one) is just a response to someone asking for a story where a muggle-born deals with Umbridge via a gun.

The 1st one is just a silly little minific that I cooked up; it would have little relevance to any plot (unless you want to make a subplot about Flitwick seeking Snape for the Frog Choir), but it's cute nonetheless.

* * *

 **Neville's secret Boggart-banishing technique...**

 _The DADA classroom, Harry's 3rd year. The lesson on defense against Boggarts..._

"Finish it off, Neville!" Professor Lupin cried.

Neville strode forward, eyes glinting with mischief.

With a ~pop!~, the Boggart transformed back into Professor Snape, who raised his wand threateningly.

" _Riddikulus_ " Neville intoned with confidence. There was a flash of light.

Nothing happened, save for the Boggart-Snape looking befuddled.

"Concentrate, Neville." Lupin urged.

Neville threw the professor a smirk, "Oh, I did, professor."

Then he stepped up and viciously kneed the Boggart-Snape in the balls.

* * *

Professor Flitwick stopped conducting the Frog Choir's practice for a moment and listened.

"Um, excuse me, just a moment," the choir stopped and looked at the professor curiously, "Does anyone know if anyone is practicing opera upstairs?"

There were murmurs and shrugs all around; the answer was clearly no.

Flitwick looked thoughtful, "Strange. For a moment there I thought I could hear the distinctive high-pitch of a countertenor."

* * *

"You see, I figured that if we can force the Boggart into a shape we find funny, we can also force it into a shape that has, well," Neville shrugged, "shall we say, a weak point."

Professor Lupin looked at the writhing, slowly disintegrating Boggart lying on the ground, and slowly nodded, "It was definitely effective, that's for certain...but please don't repeat it on the real Professor Snape."

* * *

 **A Mary Sue takes exception to Umbridge...**

Professor Dumbledore looked bemused as Dolores Umbridge stood up to address the students gathered at the opening feast.

"Thank you for those kind words of welcome, Headmaster" she began to simper, "And I-"

 **BANG!**

The words coming out of Umbridge's mouth were interrupted, as she ceased to have a mouth; indeed, the entirety of her head was missing, pieces of her skull and brain matter flying every which way and splattering the wall behind her.

There was a hush, the entire Hall completely silent, before Umbridge's still-standing headless body began spurting gallons of blood out of the stump of her neck.

"MARILYN OMEGA SUE!" Professor McGonagall suddenly roared, her eyes on the Gryffindor table where a ridiculously attractive girl was still holding a smoking gun, "I have told you before, .50 magnums aren't allowed at Hogwarts! Also, that was murder!"

The girl just smiled innocently, "Sorry professor, won't happen again." She paused as though thinking of something, before, "It wasn't murder, though. See, according to Obscure Wizengamot Ruling #3373-6594, when Dolores Umbridge attempted to assassinate me and Harry by sending dementors to my holiday resort, her violating legislation against cruel and unusual assassination made her automatically an outlaw who could be legally killed on sight."

McGonagall just grumbled, "Yes, well, 50 points to Gryffindor for slaying an outlaw, but, minus 2 points for possessing contraband items and making a mess."


	11. Excessive amounts of good karma

I...to be honest, I have no idea where I got this idea from. Wait, yes I do, I was reading about the beaker overflow exploit in Civilization V and it gave me this ridiculous idea for Harry's karma somehow overflowing due to his good deeds and being stuck with a horcrux in his head and going back in time and whatnot.

The result was this incredibly silly fic. I made up a Part 2 in the comments of the thread this was originally in, after someone commented on expecting an overflow error.

It might actually be possible to do a fic based on this, a Harry who's inexplicably super-lucky after going back in time, and doesn't know why. Or a Harry who's using his super luck to race against time to finish Voldemort before his karma experiences an overflow error and blows up the planet. Or a Harry who must be evil by necessity to cut down his karma to prevent the blowing up of the planet.

"Harry Potter, I am a Servant of the Lord. We hereby command you, and We cannot believe We are saying this, that you must be moste wicked and blasphemous, to prevent the World's destruction through a most unholy of glitches. Here's a copy of the Ten Commandments, thou must break each and every one of them."

* * *

 **Heavenly Offices, sector 614460-9553-4-M...**

"Oh crap!" One of the angels whooshed into his chair and started typing at something resembling a computer.

"What's up? Did someone make a deal with a devil?" One of his co-workers asked.

The first one shook his head, "No, no, it's one of the great humans, Harry Potter! He used a time travel device to go back to his own past and it's causing a glitch!"

The second shrugged, before sliding over to his own terminal and typing into it, "Harry Potter. Commonly known as Boy-Who-Lived. Wrongly famous for Voldemort aka Tom Riddle's 'first' demise, see file 1752D0G Lily Evans, but successfully caused Voldemort's true death. Update in progress, see Incident Report FHD634. What kind of glitch?"

The first sighed, "Alright, so, look at Harry's personal karma history. He started off fairly neutral for karma, but he had a heap of multipliers; dead parents, mean relatives, madman out to kill him, bit of evil soul in his head, and of course that he was young."

"And?"

"The problem is, check Incident Report BKD3472! Because there was a bit of Voldemort's soul in Harry, and Voldemort has like the worst karma ever, Harry wasn't getting the benefit of his karma, it was just building up and up and up..."

"Oh, that explains the crap he went through at Hogwarts. And also how he beat Voldemort for real, that was when he was just free of the soul bit and had loads of good karma to spare, right?"

The first angel nodded and turned back to his terminal, "Right! But now Harry's gone BACK in time to his own 11-year-old body! And he just did some sort of ritual to remove the horcrux from his body, so now we've got a two-souled Harry Potter with a massive amount of leftover karma and all the multipliers intact!"

The second blinked, "But won't that solve itself with a few bursts of ridiculously good fortune? A winning lottery ticket blowing into his path?"

The first buried his head in his hands, "That's the problem. It won't. Harry's karma pool is so big now that when his karma is recalculated after every good thing that'll happen to him, it'll actually increase!"

"Like a multi-trillion-dollar bank account where try as you might, you can't spend more than you're getting in interest." The second one commented sagely.

The first looked up, "You have no idea how accurate a simile that is. That Einstein guy wasn't kidding when he said that compound interest is the most powerful force in the universe."

* * *

 **Earth**

Harry scratched his chin and pondered. Something very strange had been going on lately. Sure, he appreciated the lottery wins that quadrupled the size of his Gringotts vault (even if he didn't buy any tickets), and the growth spurt and instant muscles brought on by a burst of accidental magic were welcome, but the hordes of men and women following him around and praising him as their lord and messiah (some not even human, some clearly from another world) was starting to bug him, and if he had to be honest with himself, he much preferred his old snowy owl animagus form to his current weird phoenix/nundu/hippogriff hybrid thing.

He was just heading into Eelops Owl Emporium to reunite with an old friend, when there was an explosion and the entire room was covered in powder snow, causing the various owls to squawk.

There, in the center of them, was a magnificent white Snow Phoenix, who turned her head and nodded, _Harry Potter. Most exalted one, your mere presence has unlocked my true form._

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Hedwig?"

 _If that is what you wish to call me, let it be so._

Harry sighed. How was he going to find and destroy all of Voldemort's horcruxes with so many _distractions_?

* * *

 **Part 2 (Where the karma counter flips over)**

Harry's amazing luck suddenly took a turn for the worse as Hedwig developed an inexplicable case of diarrhea while perched on Harry's shoulder.

The sight sent various Slytherins at their house table into hysterical laughter, which triggered bursts of accidental magic from each of them, which washed over the hordes of Harry's worshipers, squeezed into the Great Hall with him.

Slowly, those worshiping eyes turned to madness as a wire in their brains was crossed just the wrong way by the magic, and Harry's followers suddenly charged at the Boy-Who-Lived with their bare hands, wands, knives, arrows and laser guns.

In the resulting 'kerfuffle', Harry lost several teeth, several fingers, both of his unmentionables, one of his eyes, and got something rather unpleasant tasting in his mouth.

Flailing around, desperately trying to escape, Harry's own magic accidentally activated, combining with the residual chrono-energy from his previous trip through time, opening a space-time rift in the Great Hall.

Dozens of innocent people were torn apart by the rift; somehow, this counted as close enough to 'murder' for Harry's soul to fracture, and residual energy from the horcrux meant that bits of Harry's soul went flying everywhere, turning dozens more survivors in the Great Hall into horcruxes.

More importantly, however, Harry himself, far from being torn apart by the space-time vortex, was cast back millions of years into the past...

Harry groaned and slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight.

"Uh...okay, what just-"

~NOM~

He was promptly eaten in one gulp by a Tyrannosaurus.

And then a certain meteor landed on the Tyrannosaurus, blowing up everything for miles around and burying Harry's chewed up and pulverized corpse deeep below the earth.

This wasn't quite the end of Harry, however, because he still had a connection to his accidentally-created horcruxes in the future.

This meant that, fully conscious, his spirit was buried deep, deep underground, with very little ability to move the packed earth around him.

 _The next few million years are going to suck..._ Harry thought to himself.


	12. CYOA: Why muggles don't have any magic

Hello again!

This one's a nice long one, but that's more because it's four-in-one starting from a central divergence point.

Really, this is more presenting potential answers to a question in fic form rather than an actual plot; the question is, "why don't muggles have magic if _literally every single other intelligent species on the planet_ does?".

Option 1 is that a fair handful of the species covered by the Statute of Secrecy aren't magical at all, but were at risk of being exterminated before being spirited away under the Statute. If you wanted to write a fic based on this, you could set it in 1690 or so, looking at a dramatic multiracial unified battle against genocide, or it could be in the present day and look at preparations to bring down the Statute, or how it's been twisted from its original purpose, or anything.

Option 2 is the idea that all humans are magical, magic being tied to intelligence, but 99.9% of humanity was horribly cursed to have no magic, save for the occasional muggleborn who's somehow able to get around it. Doing a fic on this one would be easy, imagine if the curse was broken on everyone all at once and every human became magic again.

Option 3; the wizards are from another dimension. This is basically just setting the stage for some role reversal, by pitching some ideas as to how modern technology could best magic if it came to the wizards' home dimension. Bonus points if any fic you write with this concept has the line 'Yer a muggle, Harry'.

Option 4, this is a bit of a mind-screwy one. Basically it's a sort-of idea where magical creatures and the spells and enchantments wizards/witches use are half-phantasmal; if people didn't actually believe in magic, it wouldn't be around. Maybe the potential for a fic here is in someone's hit with anti-magic and sees a world 'under the veil', or someone tries a worldwide hypnosis spell to make everyone stop believing in magic as the ultimate vengeance against magic-kind.

* * *

 **The muggle Prime Minister's office.**

"So, Mr. Kingsley..." the Prime Minister started before taking a sip of tea, "I've been wondering about something odd recently and I was hoping you could clear it up for me."

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the current Minister for Magic, looked at the muggle Prime Minister and tilted his head quizzically before he smiled, "By all means, ask, I will attempt to answer."

The PM nodded, "Thank you...I was just wondering...I've heard about goblins, and centaurs, and Veela, and giants, and elves, and I understand that they're really all quite intelligent and civilized..."

Kingsley looked to the side, "Perhaps not giants...though I suspect wizarding-kind are largely at fault for their degraded state...in any case, what's on your mind about them, Minister?"

The Prime Minister shut his eyes for a few seconds while he breathed deeply, before he began, "If there are so many intelligent creatures in the magical world, who can make tools and speak a language and all those other civilized things..."

He took another deep breath, "Where are all of the _non-magical_ intelligent beings? Surely humans can't be the only ones who evolved intelligence without magic? Have the others simply gone extinct, like neanderthals?"

Kingsley stopped dumbstruck, completely unprepared for the question, before he sighed and turned to look directly at the Prime Minister, "That is...well, actually..."

* * *

 **Option 1: Not all magical**

"Actually...you're right. Not all of the beings hidden under our Statute of Secrecy are magical. Veela are, very much so, but magical centaurs are as rare as magical humans, and I don't think I've ever heard of a magic-capable giant."

The PM blinked at Kingsley's statement, before the obvious question came to him, "But why? If these other beings don't possess any magic at all, why are they covered under your Statute of Secrecy?"

"For the same reason that the Statute exists in the first place," Kingsley answered, a sudden grimness about his person, "To prevent their destruction at human hands."

The Prime Minister's eyes widened. There was silence for a few seconds before he spoke again, "After the Ottomans and Nazis, I can understand that...who was behind it?"

Kingsley looked away, "I...can't say. Damnatio Memoriae, their identity was erased from recorded history. All I know is that whoever they were, they reached their peak in the 17th century."

The Minister for Magic turned back at the PM, "The satyrs were exterminated at their hands...so were the minotaurs, the cyclopses, all manner of giant birds, even the cobalts."

The Prime Minister looked sorrowful, "I see...and so to protect the rest, you created your Statute of Secrecy in...1692, was it? And you hid yourselves as well?"

Kingsley nodded, "If we didn't hide magic as well, the...enemy, would have used it to find us anyway. In actual fact, I understand we hid tens of thousands of muggles as well, those who would have been attacked when we disappeared."

The other Minister smiled slightly at that, before frowning, "But...I understand that your society unfortunately still views many of these other creatures as third-class citizens...and sometimes as slaves?"

Kingsley growled and wiped his brow, "Tell me about it...it's a stupid thing to do with wandlore. Some _people_ in our world think that having a wand makes them superior and they don't want to share them with anyone or anything else..."

"Fortunately those attitudes are on the way out...?" the PM prompted.

Kingsley smirked, "Yes they are, finally. I'm working towards some long overdue racial equality, we'll need it if we ever lift the Statute..."

At hearing this, the Prime Minister's eyes widened, "You're actually planning to lift it? After over 300 years?"

Kingsley shook his head, "Not yet. If we revealed ourselves and someone tried to wipe us out, we'd be too few to defend ourselves. The last few dark lords have seen to that..."

There was silence in the office for several minutes as both men contemplated the sheer amounts of bloodshed that had gone on in the past few decades for magical-kind.

A secretary came in, dropped off a fresh pot of tea and some paperwork, picked up some outgoing files, and left without batting an eye at the oddly dressed Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The silence lingered for a few minutes more, before the PM snickered quietly to himself.

Kingsley tilted his head again, "Hmm?"

"Oh, just curious," the Prime Minister commented, "You weren't planning on doing anything stupid like imposing a Marriage Law or something like that to rush population growth, were you?"

Kingsley choked and spluttered, sending droplets of tea everywhere, "Like that horrible bill proposed by Leybean? Oh heck no, that would be ridiculous..."

* * *

 **Option 2: The ancient curse**

"Actually...you are magical. Every muggle is."

A deafening silence filled the Prime Minister's office.

"I, uh, I doubt that. I haven't had any bursts of accidental magic that I know of." The PM smiled slightly.

Kingsley shook his head, "Not in the sense that you're all like muggleborns, I mean...this is going to be a long story."

The Prime Minister just nodded. Kingsley took that as his cue; conjuring up a luxurious lounge chair, he sank down into it and opened his mouth.

"The fact is, magical ability is intrinsically tied to intelligence; the ability to perceive the world around you, synthesize information, create fiction, and so forth," Kingsley began his explanation,

"Many creatures, from flobberworms to dragons, can feed on magic present in the environment and adapt to use it, but at its core, magic is psychic, originating from the thinking mind."

The Prime Minister nodded, "So, all of these intelligent beings are magical, BECAUSE they're sapient...but then, why is it that most humans don't have magic?"

Kingsley leant on the side of his chair, "I just said, you do. But you can't feel it or use it, because, a very very long time ago, humankind was cursed."

The PM raised an eyebrow, "Cursed?" he repeated, "A curse lasting through thousands of years?"

Kingsley nodded at that, "Indeed. It's a parasitic curse, passed down in the blood of humans since the dawn of civilization."

There was a silence, then the Prime Minister leant forward and put his elbows on the table in front of him, "So, where'd it start?"

Kingsley sipped his tea, "It started with Ubara. The last king of Atlantis. Except, by the time he died, he was more of a tyrannical emperor than a king."

"What did he do?" the PM asked.

Kingsley leaned towards the PM, "He invented the Original Dark Magic. A terrible word that ravages the minds of humans, tearing apart their magical power."

"And he used it on his enemies?" the Prime Minister guessed.

Kingsley nodded, "Exactly. Civilization in that time relied heavily on magic...to create a weapon that could bypass shields and tear it away was nearly the worst thing imaginable."

The Minister for Magic slowly stood and looked out the window into the garden, "It was...there was an author who spoke to ghosts from the time...according to him, tearing someone's magic away made them less than human, only an animal..."

He looked back at the PM, "No offense meant."

The Prime Minister waved his hand, "None taken."

Kingsley came back from the window and sat down in his chair again, "In any case, Ubara used this Original Dark Magic to wage war and subdue the citizenry. He wouldn't let anyone have magic unless they swore eternal loyalty to him."

"And he swept the entire human population with his dark magic?" the PM guessed again.

"Indeed. Ubara was the first and so-far only person to have successfully conquered the world." Kingsley confirmed.

Then, he looked saddened, "Despite all the steps he took towards immortality, his reign thankfully only lasted just over 600 years...but the remains of his dark magic still linger today."

There was a silence in the room, though it only lasted a few seconds before the Prime Minister's head shot up, "Wait a moment! If we're magical but under a dark curse, where do muggleborns come from?"

Kingsley smiled, "We don't know for sure, but we know that the number of muggleborns showing up each year is increasing...the curse might finally be starting to fail."

The Prime Minister grinned at that...shortly before his grin melted away to be replaced by a look of worry, "What'll happen to our world if kids start being born with...like, sort-of superpowers, though?"

Kingsley went white, "Oh dear, that could be calamitous."

* * *

 **Option 3: From another dimension**

"Actually...you _are_ the only beings who evolved intelligence without magic. In fact, you're the only beings _native_ to this planet who are sapient, period."

The Prime Minister blinked, "But...centaurs and goblins and...wait, native? As in, you're aliens?"

Kingsley looked around, "Not in the sense of being Martians, no...it's more...do you read science fiction? Or high fantasy?"

"I know a bit about Dungeons & Dragons." the PM volunteered.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, trying to place the name, "That...I'm not familar with it, what's it about?"

"Oh, D&D, that's what it's called for short, it's...basically this pencil-and-paper game that a group of people play where they act out being wizards and fighters and monsters and whatnot," the PM awkwardly explained,

"It's set in a fantasy setting where you have knights and magic and princesses and dragons and stuff."

"I...see?" Kingsley still looked confused, "Funny you should mention that, 'knights and magic and princesses and dragons and stuff' somewhat describes our home dimension."

"Huh, neat," the PM smiled, then pulled a funny face as he parsed the previous sentence, "Wait, you're from an alternate dimension?"

Kingsley nodded, "Exactly. Our ancestors are, anyway. Humans with magic, 'centaurs and goblins' as you put it...everything magical comes from an entirely different world to this one."

"Huh...still neat." the PM shrugged, "Any chance we 'normal' humans could visit your world someday?"

At this, Kingsley looked very shifty, "Well...possibly, if you develop dimension crossing technology...but there's something you need to know first."

The Prime Minister blinked, "What? Is your dimension dangerous?"

Kingsley shook his head, "Maybe, with all the big monsters running around...but actually, I wanted to say, do you know _why_ magic can seemingly overwrite the laws of reality here? Alter minds, shield against everything, hide from everything?"

The PM just tilted his head, "I do wonder sometimes how your memory charms can edit photos and camera footage so easily."

"It's because, everything about us, from our magic to the little physical things, is originally from another dimension. Our laws of physics are just ever so slightly different." Kingsley began,

"And, well, our laws of physics came with us; every time we do something physical, or do some magic, or whatever, the physics of this world are pushed aside just enough to let it work."

The Prime Minister blinked again at this, "So, if we went to your world, we wouldn't be able to defend ourselves against anything nasty? Because their physics would override our physics?"

Kingsley shook his head with sudden urgency, "No, no! It's the _opposite_! If you went to our world, you'd bring your physics with you, and it could overcome our magic!"

He took a deep breath and continued, "As in, Memory Charms and Imperius? Breakable with hypnosis or electroshock therapy or whatever. Killing Curse? Fixable with defilibration."

"And, that's not all. Titanium alloys and stuff that's supposed to be strong? It'll stand up to literally anything. Your chemistry could create unbeatable poisons or cures. Bullets could pierce magic shields."

Kingsley took another deep breath before finishing, "In summary...if you visit our world, you'll have the real 'magic'. We figured it out a long time ago."

"That's...huh." The PM struggled to take all of this in, "So...if we visited your world...we'd have to avoid making any accidental dark lords, right?"

Kingsley shuddered at the mention of that idea, "Please don't suggest the idea of muggle dark lords crossing dimensions, I'll have nightmares about atom bombs..."

* * *

 **Option 4: The grand illusion**

"Actually...magic isn't real."

A silence came over the room at this statement. The Prime Minister looked at Kingsley with raised eyebrows.

"Rrrrriiight. Magic isn't real, according to the man who I have tea and biscuits with the same time each month, who makes appointments with me via a talking painting and travels from place to place via green fire." the PM finally said, with a completely neutral expression.

Kingsley facepalmed, visibly embarassed, "Not like that, Minister...I mean, magic is...the best way to describe it would be that magic exists because humans believe in magic."

"So, if I convinced myself that there was a million pounds in cash on my desk right now, it'd be there?" the PM snarked.

"No, because you'd be the only person who believes in the million pounds." Kingsley corrected him, "It's some sort of combined psychic phenomenon that we only confirmed recently and we still don't fully understand."

"Oh? So if enough people believe in something, it becomes true?" the Prime Minister asked, the snark gone from his voice.

"In a sense," Kingsley paused while he thought about how to phrase things, "It's more...when enough people picture an idea, it gains the ability to manifest in reality."

"So our entire world is one big dream created by the collective consciousness of humans?" the PM started to look worried now.

"That's...no, we've confirmed the laws of physics can exist without us believing in them. It's more..."

Another silence as the PM watched Kingsley try to pick the right words.

"Supernatural forces manifest because humans believe in supernatural forces. Like some sort of placebo." Kingsley finally said, "When magic first appeared, it took the form of humanity's myths and legends, and, well, it hasn't changed form much since."

"If everyone in the world stopped believing in magic, would it disappear?" the Prime Minister wondered out loud.

Kingsley shuddered at the thought, "Most likely, yes. We've investigated that possibility, it'd be like some sort of 'veil' coming off the world. Wizards would just be men in funny hats with sticks, centaurs would be normal horses, lycanthropy would 'actually' be rabies..."

"So magical things have a basis in reality...would dementors cease to exist? If they can't be seen?" the PM pondered.

"That would be an upshot, yes." Kingsley agreed, "But so many magical beings would turn into dumb animals, some others would just vanish...overall, it'd be a tragedy if magic ceased to be."

There was another awkward lull, which was prematurely ended when Kingsley raised his hand, "I know. Why did we implement a Statute of Secrecy with the purpose of hiding magic if human belief in it is what keeps us around?"

"That was what I was about to ask, yes..." the PM admitted.

"Partially, it was because we're...*mostly* certain that believing in ourselves is enough to let us stay magical, but mostly because magic folk were being persecuted back in those days and we wanted to avoid that." Kingsley explained.

"Right, right...but what if you're wrong? I know people in Africa and other places still believe in witchcraft, no offense meant, but what happens in a few decades when everyone is educated and computer-nated and stops believing in the supernatural?"

"Then? I hope our numbers are large enough that our belief in ourselves is enough. Or failing that, that the gold galleons in Gringotts stay real enough to be converted to pounds." Kingsley joked, trying to hide the sudden haunted expression in his eyes.


	13. Enhancing blood wards? Bad idea

_**I'm back! This snippet presents a possibility for a question I've been sitting on for a little while:**_

 _ **Many stories have an older Harry, with power and experience, going back in time to set something right.**_

 _ **But what if you had a very young Harry inadvertently sent to the future, wielding incredible power but no experience whatsoever?**_

* * *

 **The Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts, 1981**

Minerva McGonagall daintily wiped her fingers clean with a tissue, before putting down the latest piece of parchment and reaching for the bowl of lemon drops.

While Albus was away, it was her job as Deputy Headmistress to take on all of the Headmaster's responsibilities. And, eyeing the bowl of lemon drops, she was quite determined to carry out _all_ of those responsibilities.

Before McGonagall could touch the bowl, however, the door burst open-

BOOM!

-and a purple-and-white blur shot into the room, crashing into a cupboard holding several books of ultra-obscure magical theory.

 _"Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit..."_

"Albus!" McGonagall snapped, "Language!"

Albus Dumbledore only shot a quick glance at McGonagall ( _What on earth's gotten into him?_ she wondered) before he turned his attention back to his book collection, furiously rifling through them for an answer, any answer.

Her irritation at Dumbledore's vulgarities slipping away, Minerva slowly stood up and came over to look at the books Albus was pouring through.

"Albus, what's wrong?" she asked worriedly, "Did the Dursleys...?"

"YES! No! It's complicated!" Albus shut the cupboard without bothering to reshelf the books, before he ran over and opened a gratuitous treasure chest labelled 'Even More Ultra-Obscure Magical Theories', diving in headfirst and disappearing into its depths.

Minerva McGonagall blinked before she slowly made her way around and sat back down in the Headmaster's chair, waiting a few seconds before taking a large handful of lemon drops.

* * *

 **Later**

"Albus, what's this about?" McGonagall asked again, as the exhausted looking headmaster collapsed on the softest couch in his office.

"I made a tremendous mess, Minnie..." he moaned, "I had a great idea but it went all wrong..."

"Yes, but _what happened_?" she stressed.

Albus Dumbledore raised his head to look at McGonagall, "The blood wards. They were supposed to protect Harry until he was 17. I tried to improve them to make him safer and make them last longer..."

Minerva tilted her head, "Did you accidentally cause them to collapse?"

Albus shook his head, "No, no...Harry is absolutely safe now. He couldn't be safer. Absolutely nothing can harm him now...from a certain point of view."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, "And...what precisely does that mean, Albus?" she asked warningly.

"I froze him in time, Minerva! He's in temporal stasis! It's how the magic of the blood wards decided to protect him!"

Dumbledore laid back and covered his eyes with an arm; McGonagall waited for an explosion or meltdown of some sort, but it didn't come.

After a few seconds, Dumbledore raised his head to look at Minerva again.

"I didn't want this to happen...Harry was supposed to be safe, but...not this safe. I wanted to see him grow up, Minnie." he said mournfully.

Minerva McGonagall blinked, then..."How long will this stasis last?"

Albus waved a hand, "Until his Aunt dies, which might be four or five decades from now. She is, fortunately, not in stasis as well."

The aged headmaster chuckled despite himself, "I suppose that if there's one silver lining, its that the Dursleys will have no trouble caring for Harry now...and I suppose there's..." he hesitated.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes again, "What is it, Albus?"

Albus smiled a little, "Well...I wouldn't actually say it's a good thing, really...but I believe that the modified blood wards are having another effect on Mr. Potter...they might be altering his body while he's in stasis, making him healthier, improving his Wussels, augmenting his resistance to magic, that sort of thing..."

McGonagall rolled her eyes; _Only Albus would use 'Wussels' as a name for someone's magical core,_ she thought, before speaking out loud, "And how is that not a good thing?"

Dumbledore looked directly at her, "What happens when he comes out of stasis? A one-year-old child. Accidental magic. Except approximately fifteen-thousand times more. Most likely immune to suppressants, limiters, restraints, or most other magic."

McGonagall blinked, "So much for the Statute of Secrecy."

* * *

 **50 years later**

The door to #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging burst open, and a wheezing, scorching, thoroughly frazzled Dark Lord stumbled through.

"Stupid guards. Stupid Shacklebolt, kinky bastard living up to his name. Stupid Fenrir Greyback and flesh of the servant and his damn fleas. Stupid STUPID blood wards." Voldemort grumbled as he dusted himself off.

He bent over to scratch an itch on his bottom, before his wand shot up and pointed at the doddering Aunt Petunia, who had stopped in the middle of setting the table, "But I've finally found you! You and your damn Potter! And after I've gotten of you, I'll get rid of him! And then nothing will stop me, prophecies and blood protection be damned!"

Petunia Dursley just blinked owlishly, before slowly picking up a teapot and holding it up, "Cup of tea, Simmons?"

Voldemort sighed, "Of course the old biddy's gone bloody senile... _Ebulito!_ "

The Dark Lord jabbed his wand, and Petunia's face went bright red and blotchy, before her entire head suddenly exploded off her shoulders in an eruption of bone and brain and boiling blood and other gooey things starting with B.

Voldemort winced, casting a brief cleaning charm on his robes, "It's no fun when they don't beg for their miserable little lives...now where is that Potter...?"

 **5 minutes later:**

"A cardboard box under the bed?!" Voldemort said incredulously, staring at where his detection spell had pointed him to, "Not a shrine or a fancy tomb or even a space in the cupboard under the stairs, but...a box? What the heck, people."

Sighing, he opened up the box, looking down at the 51-year-old-and-still-a-baby Harry Potter.

Harry had been changed a lot by the blood wards while he was in stasis. His skin, rather than being peach-coloured like a normal human, was instead some kind of metallic gold. His little arms and legs had elongated, his eyes were big and blue and too large for his head, his ears were long and pointy, and the former scar on his head had well and truly vanished.

In short, he looked like a metal statue, created by a very rich artist, who had no idea of proper human proportions.

Voldemort looked over the tiny, giggling Harry Potter, taking in his new appearance, before he winced, "Ew."

The Dark Lord raised his wand again, "And now, to do myself - and by the looks of you, the rest of the world - a favor. Avada Kedavra!"

The green ray of light shot towards the baby Harry...and splashed against his golden skin, doing nothing whatsoever.

"Figures," Voldemort muttered, "It didn't work the first time either."

And then everything exploded.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt, having recovered from his encounter with Voldemort and having donned another black latex catsuit, hurriedly Apparated back to Privet Drive, and stopped. The house at number 4 was in ruins, covered in rubble and...vines? And flowering blossoming trees?

Cautiously stepping through the destroyed front door, Kingsley held his wand at the ready, wondering what could have possibly happened.

"Goo."

He looked around. That was definitely the sound of a baby. But, Harry was supposed to still be in stasis...

Kingsley stumbled, before looking down. Underneath him, covered in vines, was the headless body of what looked to be an old woman.

 _Petunia Dursley. And if she's dead, the blood wards..._ he thought slowly.

"Goo-ga?"

"Oh, shut up! Bloody Potters!"

Kingsley's eyes widened, and he rushed to what used to be a bedroom.

Bursting in, wand at the ready, he looked around; the entire place looked like a wetlands, with vines and trees and lilypads and a giant, grumpy-looking green frog with red eyes...

"What are you looking at, you old bastard?" the frog growled.

Kingsley stared at the frog, "V...Voldemort?"

"No freaking duh, twinkle-toes. Courtesy of your stupid bloody boy-who-lived." the frog answered before sticking out his tongue.

Kingsley ducked, narrowly missing having his eye taken out by the misanthropic frog's tongue, before he waved his wand, conjuring a small steel cage (with anti-tongue wards) around the amphibian before turning his attention to the source of the 'goo-ga's' and raising an eyebrow.

"Ugly little shit, ain't he?" Voldefrog piped up.

Kingsley's eyes flicked in Voldefrog's direction briefly, before he returned his attention to the baby Harry Potter; carefully pocketing his wand, he started to reach out with both hands to pick up the 1-year-old...

"Goo-ga!" There was a bright flash of light.

"What? What happened? Lemme see!" Voldefrog called.

When the light cleared, Kingsley looked around at the surroundings; nothing seemed changed...

"You look nice in a dress, Shacklebolt." Voldefrog helpfully pointed out.

Kingsley looked down; true to Voldefrog's word, his previous catsuit had been turned into a frilly pink muumuu, not unlike how Petunia Dursley was wearing a short time ago.

"Better than being a frog, I guess." he muttered under his breath; Voldefrog scowled, and began to swell up.

"Oh yeah? Hey, Potter, listen up!"

The Dark Amphibian let out a tremendous _ribbet_ , loud enough to disturb the water surrounding his cage; Harry Potter's face scrunched up in fright.

Kingsley whipped out his wand again, pointing it at Voldefrog, " _Silencio!_ "

But it was too late; baby Harry Potter had been startled by the noise, and there was another bright flash of light.

"Oh, _shit_."

* * *

 **MASS KIDNAPPING IN SURREY!**

 _Thousands of residents vanished without trace!_

 _Large frogs, snakes and lizards found in houses of victims._

 _Criminologists baffled by speed of disappearance, reptilian calling card._


End file.
